


Figure

by Lemon_Quill



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Highschool AU, M/M, Slow Burn, dreamnotfound, mutual crush, skating au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:15:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28883745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemon_Quill/pseuds/Lemon_Quill
Summary: The new exchange student, a prodigy skater, has taken the skating the rink by storm, catching the eyes of Dream, a hockey player with no sense of self-protection.  After a disaster at the rink, their friendship begins to grow, eventually sparking into something more.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 279





	1. Grounded

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! If you happen to read this, I'm so glad you're here. This was based off some artwork I saw on twitter (I can't remember who, but I'll be sure to find). I saw Dream as a hockey player, and George as an ice skater, and inspiration just struck! I hope you enjoy this first chapter! Let me know if there's anything I can improve on!

The smooth glide of ice disappears from beneath Dream’s feet as he stalks off the rink and into the stands behind the massive wall of glass. His fingers are cold as he strips them of his gloves, running a hand through his hair. The laughter of his teammates rings in his ears, bringing a grin to his lips. His duffel sits at the far end, drawing him close, the water bottle sitting amidst the fabric beckoning him closer. 

It's a relief to sit down. The two hour training sessions their coach demands always have his legs shaking by the end. But, even as he slips off his massive skates, he feels a weird sense of unfamiliarity with the ground beneath him. The side effects of living on the ice five days a week, fifty-two weeks a year.

Helmet. Pads. Mouth guard. He strips everything, leaving him in only a dark green sweater, and dark pants. His stick rests beside him as he begins to tuck everything away in his duffel. A swig of his water sends freezing liquid down his throat, delicious and fresh. All around him, his teammates begin to rise, heading towards the exit. He returns their calls, grinning at every compliment that reaches his ears. It’s gratifying.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” says a voice next to him. He glances up, meeting the gaze of his best friend, a white bandana wrapped around his forehead. Sapnap grins, flopping down on the bench beside him, yawning widely. 

“You know I never do,” says Dream, rolling his eyes. He ignores Sapnap’s snort, finally zipping his duffel shut. “Let’s go, I’m starving.” He rises, slinging his duffel over his shoulder, and snatching his stick from where it lay. He doesn’t wait for Sapnap, making a beeline for the exit. 

“You take too long to get packed up,” mutters Sapnap, jogging to catch up to Dream. “Last off the ice, last to leave. I’m practically wasting away from hunger.”

“Prick,” says Dream. “At least I can find things.”

Sapnap’s retort is cut off when one of their teammates waves at them, his blue hoodie a bright splotch in the sea of dull colors. They make a beeline for him. He grins, his dark hair streaked with blue. 

“Hey Skep!” calls Sapnap, clapping him on the back. “Wanna get Chipotle with Dream and me?”

“I never said we were getting-” starts Dream, indignantly, knowing very well Sapnap intends for him to pay, but Skeppy shakes his head.

“Can’t,” he says. “I promised I’d stay and watch a friend.” He glances behind him, staring at the small group of figure skaters standing near one of the doors to the rink. They’re all dressed warmly, with hats and scarves, testing their narrow skates on the carpet. From their midst, a boy dressed in black looks up, waving at Skeppy with a grin. Skeppy waves back, a grin touching his lips. “They’re practicing for a competition in a few weeks.” But from his expression, he doesn’t look too excited to be staying.

“Is anyone watching with you?’” asks Dream.

“No,” says Skeppy grimly. “No one wanted to stay. It’s not exciting enough, apparently. I want to watch, but I’d rather not do it alone.” He falls silent, glancing at the stands with a grim expression 

“Such a good friend,” muses Sapnap. “Have fun while we-”

“We’ll stay,” says Dream. 

Both Skeppy and Sapnap look at him, surprised.

“Really?” asks Skeppy hopefully.

“But what about Chipotle?” Sapnap frowns.

“It can wait,” says Dream. “It’s only five right now, and we have eons of time. I’ll make sure to compensate for making you wait.” Sapnap sighs, but remains silent. Skeppy grins, and leads the way to the nearby stands. The three sit, watching intently as the door to the rink opens up, and a few of the skaters slide onto the ice.  
Dream watches, mesmerized. He’s always wanted to watch the figure skaters, but he never had an excuse before now. They are graceful in their movements, gliding with more fluidity than Dream could imagine. He can recognize several of their faces, among their small class at school, save for one boy. 

His lithe body is clothed in blue, his dark hair combed neatly on top of his head. It doesn’t take long before the boy begins to spin, his movements fluid. With each jump, the boy lands without a totter, gliding smoothly from one movement to the next. His pale face is full of concentration, his cheeks already pink from the cold.  
Dream cannot tear his gaze from him. He’s entranced, as the boy clearly outmatches his peers with both skill and grace.

“Who’s that?” he mutters to Skeppy, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “The boy in blue.”

Skeppy frowns. This is unlike him, since he knows everyone at their school.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly, his eyes following the boy’s movement. “But I think I heard something about an exchange student from England? That might be him.”

Dream nods, his gaze still following the boy.

“Looks like Dream’s developing a crush,” mutters Sapnap, leaning across Dream to whisper non discreetly at Skeppy. He jerks back to his own seat as Dream whacks him in the head.

“Am not,” says Dream indignantly. “I don’t even know his name.”

“I could find out who he is,” says Skeppy slyly. He elbows Dream in the arm. “And introduce you.”

“Pft,” says Sapnap. “There are better ways to catch someone’s attention.” Dream groans. Any of Sapnap’s ideas always lead to some form of embarrassment, usually for him.

“Why are you guys even conspiring?” he asks tiredly. The boy leaps into the air, spinning three times before landing lightly. “It’s futile, since I don’t like him.” His tone immediately silences them both. For a while, they sit in silence, few words spoken between them, save for a few comments about the skaters before them. Dream can tell when Sapnap has something from his mind, as he begins to fidget in his seat. Dream does his best to ignore him, but knows whatever he has to say will surface before long.

It doesn’t take long for Sapnap to snap.

“Then a bet,” he says, sitting up straight. He turns to Dream, his face alight. “Fifty bucks says you won’t go out on the ice, and try to do one of the boy’s jumps right now.” On cue, the boy leaps into the air. As he falls, Dream’s heart sinks deep in his chest.

“You can’t be serious,” he mutters, rubbing his eyes. Of all the wagers Sapnap has given him, this one is the worst.  
“I can,” says Sapnap. 

“What happens if I don’t?” says Dream defiantly. There’s always a catch. A hidden consequence Sapnap has panned, in order to force Dream to take his bet. 

“I’ll stand up,” he says grinning. “Right here, right now. And tell the boy you like him.”

Dream’s heart sinks. Beside him, Skeppy laughs.

“He got you there,” says Skeppy, earning a smug smile from Sapnap. “Either way, I’m not associated with either of you.”

Dream sighs.

“You’ll really sacrifice your own dignity to sacrifice mine?” he asks desperately.

“Oh please,” says Sapnap, rolling his eyes. He falls back into his heat, with his arms behind his head. “I lost my dignity a long time ago.”

Dream sighs, before leaning forward. To both Skeppy and Sapnpa’s surprise, he pulls his skates from his stuff, and begins to strap them on. He rises, tottering slightly.

“You better be ready to cough up,” says Dream. Steeling himself, he strides forward, making his way to the closest door. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the figure skating coach, Coach Brine, watching the students critically. Dream sighs, already preparing himself for another embarrassing memory to add to his collection.

The door swings open, admitting him to the ice. Dream steps on, his clunky skates skidding across the ice. His entrance doesn’t take long to be noticed, the gaze of the figure skating coach immediately snapping on to him. His face creases with anger, and he begins to make a beeline for Dream. Briefly, a memory of the coach flashes through his head, yelling at him after he and a few of his friends had covered his car in pink sticky notes. A harmless prank, but one that had cemented the coach’s impression of him as a trouble maker. 

It was now or never.

Coach Brine's urgency movement catches the attention of the skaters, who slowly glance at Dream, as he begins to pick up speed. The boy’s movements fill his head, the winding leap, the spinning through the air, and his graceful landing.

Now or never.

Dream feels himself leave the air, tucking his arms to his chest. But everything feels wrong. His skates are too clunky, his movements incorrect. He rises, but quickly realizes his mistake: He wasn’t made to fly.

He hits the ice. Hard. Before he can save himself, his skate trips him up, and he falls forward. His face slams into the ice, pain searing through his nose. He hears the gasp of the skaters, and Sapnap laughing behind him. But the pain in his face is not as potent as the pain of his failure. He rolls over, immediately feeling dizzy. He lies there, unable to move as the face of Coach Brine swims into view.

“Completely unacceptable!” he shouts. “This time is reserved for skaters only, not rambunctious hockey players! And now there’s blood on my rink!”

Blood? Dream raises a hand to his face, touching his nose gingerly. Even the brief touch sends pain racing. He pulls it away, his fingers already slick with it. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I was put up to it.”

“Someone get him a towel,” shouts Coach Brine, sending the skaters flying. “You’d better get your nose checked out. Do you have a ride?”

“Yes,” says Dream, still lying on the ground. He can taste blood, as more begins to drip from his nose. It’s definitely broken. He can barely form thought through the pain.

In a few moments, a skater returns, bearing a towel. Despite it being white, Dream brings it to his face, allowing himself to sit up. His head spins. Coach Brine helps him to his feet, apparently overcoming his dislike of Dream in his moment of pain.

“I hope this serves as a lesson to you, young man,” says Coach Brine darkly, supporting Dream across the ice. Both Sapnap and Skeppy are waiting for him on the other side of the door. Neither of them are amused, taking Dream from Coach Brine.

“I’ll get my car,” says Skeppy. “Help him get his stuff ready.”

“Make sure to call his mom!” calls Sapnap after him. Dream flops down on the bench, watching as blood from his nose stains the towel red. He doesn’t protest as Sapnap kneels, peeling off his skates and putting on his normal shoes.

“How do you feel?” he asks, helping Dream to his feet. Despite being in deep pain, Dream manages to grin.

“You owe me,” he says.

“I do,” says Sapnap, rolling his eyes. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

"I'm never listening to you again," says Dream. Sapnap laughs

Dream nods, but manages to cast one last glance at the rink. He catches sight of the boy in blue, standing on the ice, watching Dream curiously. Carefully, Dream raises an arm, waving to the boy slightly. Even the effort of the wave sends his head reeling, leaning heavily onto Sapnap. 

To his surprise, the boy waves back.


	2. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Dream's first day back at school after his accident at the rink. Despite his injury, he's determined to forget about the incident, and go on living as normal. But it doesn't take long for him to realize that his circumstances won't let him forget so easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Back with Chapter 2!
> 
> It's really astonishing the amount of support I received in the first chapter. Thank you all who read the first chapter, and decided to come back for the second. I do want to clear up a few things people may have questions about.
> 
> Every character in this fanfic is based on the character version of the CC. As you'll see in the comic, most of the descriptions are based on the CC's skin, or a design of their skin. It's import to distinguish, since shipping real people isn't good. 
> 
> Secondly, this whole project is for my own enjoyment and practice in writing. I will try to upload as regularly as I can, but that isn't a guarantee!
> 
> That's all the seriousness for now! Hope you enjoy!

Dream could do nothing over the weekend, in a constant state of exhaustion and pain. After a frantic drive to the hospital, Dream had been thoroughly covered in his own blood, staining both his shirt and the white towel he had been given. His suspicion had been all but confirmed when the doctors informed him his nose had broken. He had been under strict orders of bedrest, mostly from his mum, who had forgotten to lecture him about recklessness after seeing him covered in his own blood. 

His first broken bone, and it was because of a stupid dare.

All the while, Sapnap and Skeppy stayed with him, distracting him from the pain. He was grateful. His nose hurt most after they left, with nothing but his thoughts to occupy him. 

And yet, in the chaos of his thoughts, his mind still drifted back to the boy. His weightlessness on ice. His grace and poise. He chided himself for letting himself think about the boy. He barely knew him. He didn’t even know his name. But there was a sense of fascination he felt, watching the boy dance on his blades. More elegantly than Dream had ever felt on his own. 

The memory of his crash still burned fresh in his brain. He hoped he could forget about it soon

Unfortunately, there would be little chance for him to do so.

\-----------

Monday morning dawns bright and early, jerking Dream from his slumber with the shriek of his alarm. He rolls over, scrambling in the dark until the light of his clock flashes, and the room falls silent. The time flashes 7:00, half an hour before he has to be at school. He groans. 

Dream is slow to force himself from bed. No sudden movements, he was told. Take it easy, otherwise he might start bleeding again. He dresses. In the bathroom, he tries to avoid his reflection, but it proves to be impossible. Behind the ugly layer of bandages that covers his nose is a dark bruise, a mix of shades of green and purple. 

He sighs. He knows he will be stared at. By now, everyone will have heard about the accident. The thought makes his stomach churn. He hates the thought of the unwanted attention this will bring. He’s jerked from a reverie, as a car horn sounds below, and the yell of his sister echoes through the house. 

He steels himself. Today is going to be a long day.

\--------------

The school hallways are packed, the usual bustle of activity before class. But Dream’s presence makes heads turn, whispers exchange. It doesn’t help that he towers over everyone. His eyes are locked on the hallway in front of him, in a desperate attempt to ignore the awkward stares. It’s finally a relief when he spots the familiar sweep of Sapnap’s hair, pushed out of the way of hair by his bandana. As his friend turns away from his locker, he catches sight of Dream walking towards him. His face falls.

“Oh, God,” he mutters. “You look worse than I thought.”

“Courtesy of you,” says Dream casually. He leans against the metal door of the locker next to Sapnap. “You baited me.”

“And you went for the hook,” says Sapnap. “And I never told you to break your nose.”

Dream shrugs. “Did you expect me to land?”

“Of course not. I just didn’t expect you to fall.”

Overhead the bell rings, signaling the start of the first period.

“Math time,” Sapnap groans. “See you at lunch?”

“If I survive,” says Dream with a grin. Sapnap spares him one last chuckle, before disappearing in the mass of students. Dream watches his head bob through the crowd, before turning to head to his own class. The English hallway is nearly deserted by the time he arrives, slipping into the classroom as the warning bell finally rings.

“Nearly late,” says his teacher. Dream watches as Mr. Thompson glances up from his desk, his face falling as he catches sight of Dream’s face. Dream stifles a laugh, as the entire class gapes. Their reactions are almost comical, mouths falling open, eyes widening in shock. Dream doesn’t give them much time to stare, making a beeline for the back of the class. 

His desk neighbor looks up just as Dream slips into his seat.

“Bruh,” he says, in a low tone. “When I heard you were injured, I didn’t think it’d be this bad.”

“Still prettier than you, Techno,” says Dream quietly.

“I didn’t dye my hair for nothing,” says Techno gloomily. He brushes a lock of pink hair behind his ear, which has just begun to brush the bottom of his jaw. “Well, we all have our fashion choices.”

“Quiet in the back!” snaps Mr. Thompson. “We have a lesson to begin. Open your textbooks to page-”

The door to the classroom opens. Dream looks up. His breath catches in his throat.

It’s the boy. Seeing him off the ice feels strange, almost forbidden. No longer does he look weightless, standing at the front of the classroom in a red hoodie and dark jeans. His pale skin gleams in the fluorescent light of the room, a shocking contrast to his dark hair. Dream’s lodges in his throat.

“Is that the guy you broke your nose for?” Techno whispers to Dream, leaning out of his seat.

Dream groans. “What did Sapnap tell you?” he mutters. 

“Enough,” says Techno. He falls silent as their teacher speaks.

“Late,” he sneers. Mr. Thompson. “Tardiness is not tolerated in American schools.”

The boy shifts nervously on his feet. His eyes dart around the room, taking in the sight of the class.

“I couldn’t find my way.” He says finally. The boy’s voice rings with a British accent, more pleasant-sounding than Dream would care to admit. “The hallways are confusing.”

Mr. Thompson’s eyes narrows

“I’ll let it slide this time,” he says finally. “But next time, be here before the bell rings.”

The boy nods. All around Dream, his fellow students lean to whisper to each other. 

“Where should I sit?” he asks. 

“In an empty seat,” says Mr. Thompson dismissively, already turning back to his lecture notes. The boy bites his lip, looking around the room. Dream finds himself scanning for an empty seat, curious about where the boy will sit. His heart sinks however, upon seeing that the last empty seat is the one right next to him.

His heart pounds. He can barely look at the boy as he approaches, quickly moving towards him. This was the reason his nose had broken, why his face looked like this. Sapnap had misjudged his fascination with the boy, as more than just a gentle admiration for his skill. 

The boy sits in his seat. Dream’s face burns. 

With a narrowed eyes, Mr. Thompson returns to the whiteboard.

“Are you okay?” Techno’s voice rings in his ear, too quiet for anyone but him to hear. “You’re looking a little toasty.”

“I’m fine,” says Dream, although he’s anything but.

\-------------

The cafeteria is already packed when Dream arrives. Amidst the wandering crowd, it doesn’t take long for the stares to begin. Dream sighs, doing his best to ignore them as he wanders off. He easily spots Sapnap’s head over the crowd, black hair tied behind his bandana. He’s surrounded by several of their friends, all members of the Hockey team. Dream breathes a sigh of relief, approaching the table.

“You’re late,” says Sapnap as Dream slides onto the bench. He claps Dream on the shoulder, ignoring the stunned expressions of their teammates.

“You look-”

“Terrible,” finishes Dream. “I know.” He's surprised. Apparently news of how he broke his nose isn't common knowledge. He scans the table. “And before you all ask, no, I can’t play until this is healed.”

His statement is met with a chorus of groans.

“How long will that take?” Dream turns, meeting the gaze of the team captain, nicknamed Puffy, for the massive coats she wore. She looks concerned. As the team captain, she would be the most worried whether he could play or not.

“Three weeks,” he says. “I can start practicing again in two, but no games until it's fully healed.”

“But our first match is in a week!” Punz slams his fist against the table. “That’s too long for the team to play without you.”

“You guys are still good without me,” says Dream helpfully. “And the first few games don’t matter. I’ll be back in time for the important ones.” His words do little to put his teammates at ease. Even as he falls silent, the tension still remains high among them. Dream feels guilty. He had recklessly hurt himself, and no his team might pay the price for it. He just hoped the team wouldn’t be hurt by it.

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” says Techno loudly, breaking the stiff silence. “We have Sapnap to thank for Dream’s ‘accident’.” 

“Don’t tell me this was another dare.” Puffy’s face darkens as her gaze snaps to Sapnap. Sapnap’s careless ease suddenly disappears, and he practically withers beneath Puffy’s gaze. He coughs, dropping eye contact with Puffy. All around them, the team erupts into laughter.

“Coach is not going to be happy,” mutters Dream. 

“I know,” says Sapnap mournfully. “He’ll be more mad that we didn’t tell him about your accident until today.” He sags in his seat, letting his head hit the table. “I’m doomed.”

“I’ll make sure to write you a nice long obituary for your funeral,” says Techno solemnly clapping Sapnap on the back. Whether he’s serious or not, Dream can’t tell. 

Their table falls into normal conversation. Dream grins, his mind finally at ease from the chaos of the morning.

“You’ll still be able to come to watch today, right?” asks Puffy, leaning across the table to talk to Dream. “There are some strategies I want to discuss for the next game. Even if you won’t be in it, your input is always helpful.”

“I can’t,” says Dream, nervously watching as her face falls. “I’ve been banned from the rink after practice hours.”

Puffy jerks back. “What exactly did Sapnap dare you to do?” she asks suspiciously, glancing at the black haired boy, who is still mournfully slouched at the table.

Dream opens his mouth to respond. But, he glances over Puffy’s shoulder, and freezes. Why is he like this? Skeppy is bobbing through the crowd, chatting merrily with his friend from the rink. What was his name again? Bad, wasn’t it? But it wasn’t the sight of them that made Dream halt mid thought. Behind them, casting nervous glances around, was the boy. The boy with grace on ice. The boy with the name Dream still didn’t know. He followed them like a nervous puppy, unwilling to be separated from the familiar in the midst of the crowd. To Dream's dismay, the three rapidly approach their table.

“What’s up guys?” Skeppy grins. “Mind if we sit?” 

“Sure!” says Puffy cheerfully. She waves at Skeppy’s companions as Skeppy slides onto the bench next to Dream. “It’s okay, we don’t bite.”

Bad smiles at her, and sits down. The boy however, is less eager to do so. His gaze scans the table, lingering on Dream’s face a bit longer than Dream would’ve liked. Dream wills his face not to turn red again. Still, the boy does not move.

Dream feels a kick against his leg. Puffy raises her brows at him. Of course she would want him to say something helpful. He coughs.

“Yeah,” he says, praying that his voice stays level. “We’re friendly.” The words sound wrong on his tongue. His voice wobbles, and sounds higher pitched than normal. He swallows nervously, wondering how this day could embarrass him anymore.

Too bad for him, high school is always full of surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I do want to say before you go any further: I know nothing about ice skating.
> 
> I know. Why write an ice skating fanfiction when you know literally nothing about the sport? It's a question I still don't have an answer to. 
> 
> I do want to make this as accurate as possible, however. If there are any glaring inconsistencies, misused terms, or things that don't make sense, please let me know. I don't want throw people off, or take you out of the comic.
> 
> That's all. With my lack of knowledge, I won't focus too much on terminology, only on the parts required to tell the story. Hopefully I can deliver the ice skating AU many came for, and not disappoint.


	3. Bathroom confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream finally meets the mysterious boy from the rink. However, things don't go according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, it's been a while. This chapter was put off longer than I wanted, with a several real life conflicts and my inability to get this right. But I finally wrote something that I wanted to post. Hope you enjoy!

Dream’s face burns as the boy sits at their table. He’s painfully aware of the sinking feeling in his stomach, the weight on his chest. From the moment the boy had first looked at him, he saw the look of recognition that flashed over the boy’s face.

He knows. He recognizes him. Dream curses inwardly. Unfortunately, crashing on the ice and breaking one’s nose was an excellent way to make an impression.

Puffy turns to greet the boy, but only after one last glance at Dream. Her raised brows and pursed lips say it all: their conversation is not done yet. He sighs, resigning himself to the fact that she will ask him later, wanting to go into more detail about how he broke his nose. But of all the people he wants to tell about the incident, she’s the one he wants to tell most. She deserves to know, anyway, as his captain. 

“You must be the new exchange student,” says Puffy cheerfully, smiling at the boy. He hesitantly nods, still looking unsure of how to react. “Welcome to America.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles. His accent is sweet, a pleasant contrast to the harsh tone of his American classmates. Dream catches himself, inwardly cursing as he forces himself to think about something else. Anything. 

“Thank you for letting us sit here,” says Bad cheerfully, from the other side of Skeppy. Dream had often seen him mingling with the other ice skaters in their school, but never having interacted with him before. 

“No problem,” says Puffy, grinning. “It’s always nice to have a change in faces at the table. I’ve been stuck with these idiots since the first day of school.” She jerks her head in the direction of the rest of the table, which has devolved into rowdy conversation and laughing. 

“Nothing’s stopping you from leaving,” says Sapnap darkly. 

“Au contraire, Sapnap,” says Puffy. “Someone has to keep the team in check.”

“Ok, mom.” Sapnap sighs, turning back to his food. From his mournful expression, Dream can tell he’s still thinking what he has to tell their coach later. Drama queen , he thinks, grinning slightly. 

“You can call me Puffy,” says Puffy, turning back to the boy. 

“I’m George,” says the boy. He pauses, a confused look etched on his pale face. “... Is puffy a nickname? I can never tell with Americans.”

“Definitely a nickname,” says Puffy, with a small chuckle. She gestures at the rest of the table. “The entire hockey team has them. It distinguishes our team from the rest of the school, in a way.” It doesn’t take her long to begin listing the names of each of their teammates. Dream listens to her rattle off names, but can barely register what she’s saying. Even the food before him, sitting on the bright red lunch tray, does not seem appetizing. 

“... And the one with the broken nose is Dream.”

Dream looks up at the sound of his name. Puffy looks slightly amused, watching as he attempts to make sense of what’s happening around him. George’s gaze is calm, staring at him interestedly. 

“Yeah,” he says with a cough. “Hi.” He falls silent, feeling increasingly awkward. George’s gaze flickers to Dream’s face, studying the lumpy bandages over the purpled bruises.

“You can ask why, but don’t be too sad if he doesn’t tell you how he did it,” whispers Puffy audibly, leaning towards George. “He hasn’t told us yet either.”

“I wasn’t going to,” says George. Dream’s heart sinks. He knows, he knows. To his dismay, his face begins to burn, radiating from his nose. The boy opens his mouth, surely only to elaborate further.

“Dream! Your nose!” 

Dream snaps from his thoughts, looking up. Skeppy's proclamation causes heads to turn, bringing concern to everyone's faces. Dream brings a hand up to his face. It comes away red. He rises, holding his hands up to his face, in an attempt to keep the front of his shirt clean.

“I’ll be back,” he says hurriedly. He strides before anyone can react. The stares from surrounding people barely bother him as he exits the cafeteria, and beelines straight for the nearest bathroom. Thankfully, when he slips inside, it's empty.

He bends over the sink, supporting his stained hands on the edge of the bowl. The brown paper towels are rough on his nose, as he rips several from the holder on the wall. He inhales shakily. What’s wrong with him?

“That looks pretty bad.”

Dream glances up.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says quietly, still holding the rough towels up to his nose. Puffy saunters through the door, her hands in the pocket of her hoodie. Of course she would follow him. 

Puffy shrugs, leaning against the bathroom wall. “No one’s in here.”

“What if someone comes in?”

Puffy doesn’t respond, merely turning towards the door and shutting it gently. With a click, she locks it behind her. A sense of foreboding settles in Dream’s stomach

“Alright, spill.” She crosses her arms. “That was very unlike you.” 

Dream stares at the sink, his focus settling on the red splotches on the white ceramic. That was unlike him. He never shied away from chatter at the table, usually taking the helm of conversation. He leans against the sink bowl, trying to ignore the throbbing that begins in his nose.

“What is there to spill?” he asks quietly, dreading what she’ll ask next. His attempt to change the subject is feeble at best. How much has Puffy guessed? How observant had she been at the table, noticing his nervous ques, his unusual behavior.

“Everything,” she says. “What was Sapnap’s dare? Why were you so quiet at the table? Why did the boy make you act so weird?”

“Was I that obvious?”

“You were normal before he got there.” Puffy raises a brow. “And I know it wasn’t Skeppy or Bad, since we’ve met them before.” She looks worried. More than he had seen from her before. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

Dream doesn’t respond immediately. He rolls up the bloodied towels from his nose, grabbing new ones from the dispenser as he throws the old ones away. Hopefully his nose stops bleeding soon, otherwise he may have to go to the nurse.

“It’d be easier to start from the beginning,” he says. Puffy nods, settling herself more comfortably against the wall. Dream sighs, hesitant. Although he towers above her, even sitting on the edge of the sink, she’s intimidating. He knows the truth will have to come out eventually. He steels himself

It doesn’t take long for him to divulge the story, his voice the only thing filling the silence for several minutes. He finishes quietly, his face burning from embarrassment. Puffy however, does not look judgmental, as he might have expected, but contemplative.

“Sapnap has some nerve,” Puffy says finally. Her fists clench. 

“Do you see why I had to do it?” Dream says quietly. His posture sags. “It’d be more embarrassing to have George think I like him than throwing myself on the ice like that.”

“He assumed too much,” says Puffy. “I knew he was terrible at interpreting emotions, but I didn’t realize he was that clueless.”

“I know,” says Dream defeatedly. “How could you like someone you know nothing about?”

“And how could he be so stupid to get you banned?” Puffy slumps against the wall. “Did Coach Brine say how long your ban lasts?”

“For life,” he says darkly. It hadn’t taken long for the coach to call his house, the day after the accident. From his spot on the couch, Dream had listened as the coach had yelled at his mother, telling her that Dream was not allowed at the rink after his practice hours. That phone call had been the result of a very awkward explanation to his mother. “Beyond practice hours, he made it very clear I wasn’t allowed at the rink.

Puffy huffs. “So much for my post-practice meetings.” She falls silent, considering how she could work around this. “Has your nose stopped bleeding?” she asks after a few moments. 

Dream pulls the wad of towels from his nose.

“I think so. At least it wasn’t as bad as Friday.”

“It’s good Skeppy drove you to the hospital,” says Puffy. “Otherwise you and Sapnap would have been stranded.”

“I do owe him,” says Dream, rising up from the sink. “And Sapnap still owes me fifty.”

Puffy laughs. “He definitely does, especially after costing you hundreds of dollars in medical expenses.” Her expression turns more serious. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Dream can hear it in her tone of voice. She’s worried. He would be too if he were in her place. He smiles reluctantly.

“Yeah,” he says half-heartedly. “I’ve never been better.”

Puffy raises a brow.

“Seriously,” he says reassuringly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just remember I’m always here if you need anything,” she says , with a soft punch to his arm. 

“I know,” says Dream with a slight smile. “You always are.”

Their return to the table was not met with too many stares. Puffy and Dream were able to slip back into the cafeteria with little notice, arriving back at their table to see Sapnap animatedly explaining American Football to George, who looks almost bored. Although he quickly glances at Dream as he slips back into his seat., George does not attempt to bring up their first meeting again. Dream cannot help but feel relieved. 

The rest of the period is filled with the excited chatter Dream is used to, which he happily participates in. It’s nice. The tension on his chest seems to have eased, since his conversation with Puffy. Somehow, she had a way of making him feel calm whether it was before an important game, or during the stress of the school year. He’d have to thank her later.

The bell rings at the end of the lunch period, bringing with it a sense of relief and release of tension. The table rises up around him, Dream along with them. George is slower to get up, still slightly uncomfortable, but much more at ease. Dream grins, glad to see him so relaxed. After a moment, he catches himself staring at George’s pale features, and quickly turns away. Luckily, beneath the bandages, no one can see the red rising in his face.

_How can you like someone you know nothing about?_

Although he had barely talked, George fascinates him. His weightless grace. The ease he moves with. It’s not hard for Dream to imagine talking with him more, becoming more acquainted with this mysterious boy. It’s exhilerating. 

_You can’t like someone you just met._

Dream’s heart thumps inside his chest. The fluttery feeling in his stomach says otherwise.


End file.
